


Last Ones Out

by regenderate



Series: Special Occasions [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Formalwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18855217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regenderate/pseuds/regenderate
Summary: A late answer to the thirteen fanzine's "formalwear" prompt. The Doctor gets invited to Merry Galel's sixteenth birthday party. She takes Yaz, Ryan, and Graham with her, all dressed to the nines.Takes place after Fanciful Notions.





	Last Ones Out

**Author's Note:**

> title is from mitski's "two slow dancers" which came up in my spotify algorithm just as i was writing the end of this :-D 
> 
> turns out i now have a series for fics about formalwear thasmin! i'm trying to do their relationship justice while also respecting the weirdness that is the doctor in relationships so. let me know how i did :-D

It was maybe a week after the whole wedding thing. Yaz and Ryan and Graham and the Doctor had spent most of it on a space cruise, which had been unexpectedly fun— the idea of a cruise had never appealed to Yaz on Earth, but when the ship was passing nebulas and the stops were all at different alien planets with the Doctor pulling them off the beaten path, it was just a calmer sort of adventure.

Well, calmer until it turned out that the ship was secretly teleporting random passengers away, and then it was the regular kind of adventure, with running and aliens and problems crashing into each other until Ryan found the source of the teleports and Graham blocked the ship’s captain in his cabin and Yaz and the Doctor piloted the ship together, holding hands and still managing to not talk about what it meant to be girlfriends.

And then they were back in the TARDIS, trying to decide where to go next, when a noise went off somewhere and the Doctor’s coat flared as she ran around the console to find the source. She bent to peer at a tiny screen, then straightened up.

“Brilliant!” she said. “We’re invited to the sixteenth birthday of Merry Galel!”

“Who?” Graham asked.

“Old friend,” the Doctor said. “Brilliant girl. Or, she was when I met her. Probably still brilliant. I keep meaning to check up on her planet, and I never have. Got to see if she’s still singing!”

“What sort of celebration is it?” Yaz asked.

“Oh, I’ve no idea,” the Doctor said. “Probably somewhat fancy, yeah? She’s a bit of a public figure.”

“So, do we have to dress up?” Ryan asked.

“I didn’t think of that!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Might be nice. I’ll tell you one thing, though— I’m not wearing another dress.”

“Fair enough,” Graham said. “I have to say, I’ve never envied women on that front.”

Yaz smiled to herself, remembering the dress the Doctor had worn before, the blue fabric rippling to the ground. It had been impractical but pretty— exactly the sort of thing the Doctor would hate, really.

“When do we leave?” she asked.

“Soon as we can,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Or we can take our time. Your choice, really.”

“I haven’t got anything nice to wear,” Yaz realized.

“You mean you don’t take your formalwear on adventures?” Ryan asked.

“Not usually,” Yaz said.

“You can use the TARDIS wardrobe,” the Doctor said. “All of you. Me too, really. Can’t fit into anything I used to wear.”

The four of them set off through the corridors to the wardrobe. Once there, they scattered to different corners, which Yaz was glad of— when she found it, she didn’t want to spoil her outfit for the others (meaning, for the Doctor— she was sure Ryan and Graham didn’t care) before the party.

The TARDIS never ceased to amaze Yaz. She found all sorts of things— dresses from all eras, including a few that must have been from far in the future; strange skirts; dress pants made of all different materials. In a moment of indecision, Yaz grabbed six different outfits from six different times and places and brought them all back to her room to try on.

Half an hour later, she had settled on a massive red dress— it was most likely from the Victorian era, but Yaz figured anything she wore would look alien and anachronistic on this strange planet, and when else would she have the chance to wear a lavish old dress? She put it on and looked in the mirror. She would have to do her hair to match the intricacy of the dress, with its puffed sleeves and trails of gold lace and shining ruby skirt that opened up only to reveal a golden skirt beneath.

Her hair took another half hour to comb and braid and coil and arrange. And then she remembered the fast-acting henna she had found at some market far in the future, which was perfect for an event like this, and so she covered her left hand in intricate designs— by the end of it, she was sure the others must have been done ages ago, but when she put a gold chain around her neck, slid her feet into a pair of black flats, and ventured to the console room, she just saw Ryan and Graham, Ryan in the same suit he’d worn to the wedding, Graham in a sensible blazer and slacks.

“Whoa,” Ryan said when he saw Yaz. “You really went all out.”

Yaz smiled.

“Thanks,” she said. “You both clean up as well as ever.”

Ryan shrugged.

“Don’t see the point of putting so much effort in,” he said. “I think the Doctor might still be picking out her suit.”

Yaz’s smile grew.

“Can’t wait to see that,” she said.

“I’ll bet you can’t,” Graham teased. Yaz had always been grateful that blushes didn’t show up on her skin, and now was no exception.

“Don’t remember asking your opinion,” she said, with no real annoyance.

“It’s ‘cause he’s a white man,” Ryan said, still joking. “Always thinks his opinion’s needed.”

“Well, now,” Graham began, but he trailed off, looking at something just behind Yaz. Confused, Yaz turned to see—

_Oh._

The Doctor was wearing a fitted three-piece suit in deep blue. It was dotted with golden embroidery stars, which swirled up from her ankle in a galactic swath, winding around and widening until they hit her collar. She had done something to her eyes to make them sparkle even more than usual (glittery mascara, maybe?), and she had managed to tuck all her hair up into a top hat the same shade of blue as the suit. As Yaz looked, speechless, she picked up a few other details— the Doctor’s sleeves flared out at her wrists, and she was wearing a plain blue bowtie, and her buttons were the same shade and shine as her stars, and she was the most beautiful thing Yaz had ever seen on an ordinary day, but today— well, today was an especially good one.

“Brilliant,” the Doctor said, somehow completely unaware of the effect she’d had. “You’re all here. Shall we go?”

“If Yaz can get her jaw off the floor,” Ryan said.

The Doctor looked at him.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes innocently wide.

“Nothing!” Yaz exclaimed, shooting Ryan a glare. “Let’s go.”

The Doctor shrugged. Her movements, which could often be described as nearly comical, were rendered graceful by the elegance of the suit, Yaz noticed, but she didn’t stare this time. Instead, she followed the Doctor to the TARDIS console.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Someplace awesome,” the Doctor said. “Akhaten. In your future, but it doesn’t much matter, seeing as it’s so far away. Their religion revolves around their sentient sun, and Merry, whose birthday we’re going to, is in charge of singing it to sleep.”

“Really?” Graham asked.

“Well,” the Doctor said, flipping a switch. “That’s an oversimplification. But essentially, yeah.” She twirled a dial, threw a breaker, took a biscuit, and then, finally, pushed her hand down onto the main lever. The TARDIS engines groaned, and Yaz grinned— there was a way in which this was her favorite part, before they landed, when they could end up anywhere, having any kind of adventure.

The Doctor flipped a few more switches, the engines ran their course, and then they had landed. Yaz ran to the doors. She could hear music in the distance, and the soft babble of a crowd. Ryan and Graham came up behind her, and then finally, the Doctor, and Yaz opened the door.

She stepped out into what must have been a hollowed-out rock. Above her was a stone dome, a chandelier hanging from the center, and beneath her feet was a rich red carpet a few shades brighter than her dress. There was a hall in front of her, and through that she could see a larger room with people walking back and forth.

The Doctor led the group into the next room— a bouncer asked for their invitation, and the Doctor showed it, explaining, “I’ve got a plus three, if that’s okay.”

The bouncer didn’t argue, and so the four of them moved into the party.

It was the same sort of room as before, with a domed stone ceiling and chandeliers hanging every few meters. The atmosphere seemed very _refined_ , in Yaz’s eyes— certainly a level of wealth and taste she rarely saw, as a police officer from a working-class family. There was a table with food on one side of the room, a dance floor and an unfamiliar sort of quartet on the other, and tables interspersed between, at which people, aliens, and possibly some robots were sitting with their backs straight (when they had backs) and nibbling on petit-fours (or whatever passed for petit-fours in space). Waiters (Yaz assumed they were waiters) passed through the crowd, offering platters of strangely colored snacks.

Ryan immediately made a beeline to the food, while Graham said, “I’ll get us a table,” and went off to sit down, leaving Yaz and the Doctor alone at the entrance.  
“I should find Merry,” the Doctor said. “I’ll introduce you. She’s lovely. Or, she was when she was eight. Don’t know how she’s aged.”

“How do we know which one’s her?” Yaz asked.

“More like how will she know which one’s me,” the Doctor said. “She met me back in my bowties-and-floppy-hair phase.”

“You’re wearing a bowtie,” Yaz pointed out.

“Oh!” the Doctor exclaimed. “I forgot! It’s one of my old ones, you know.”

Yaz smiled.

“Let’s find Merry,” she said.

She and the Doctor made their way around the room, engaging in polite but vapid small talk with anyone who approached, looking for Merry Galel. They finally found her, a willowy blonde with a serious expression and strange ridges on her cheeks, surrounded by girls her age, which made the Doctor smile.

“Don’t think she had that many friends before,” she whispered to Yaz.

Merry saw the Doctor and instantly got the confused expression of someone who had just seen the Doctor, but not the Doctor they knew. Yaz saw it disturbingly often.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor said. “Remember? When you were singing?”

Merry’s brow furrowed even further.

“The Doctor was a man.”

“I was,” the Doctor agreed. “Now I’m a woman.”

“Where’s Clara?” Merry asked. “If you’re really the Doctor, where’s Clara?”

The Doctor reacted as if she had been hit. Her mouth opened, and then shut.

“Clara’s— gone,” she said. Yaz had never heard Clara’s name, but the Doctor’s grief echoed as she said it now. “Heart stopped.”

“Oh,” Merry said. She paused, her features settling into compassion. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” the Doctor said. She bowed her head. Merry’s eyes darted to Yaz.

“Who’s this, then?” she asked.

The Doctor’s head snapped up.

“This is Yaz!” she said. “She’s brilliant. And I brought my friends Graham and Ryan, too, but they’re off eating or something boring and human like that.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Yaz said.

“And you,” Merry replied. She looked Yaz up and down. “Where are you from?”

“Far away,” Yaz said. She had learned ages ago to be evasive, after telling someone she was from Earth and having them tell her Earth had been destroyed two thousand years before.

“They dress strangely there,” Merry said, but she had a small smile on her face. She herself was wearing red robes that fell straight to the floor from her shoulders, her long hair loose.

“They don’t all dress this way these days,” Yaz said. “I just thought I’d have some fun.”

“Fun,” Merry echoed. “I quite like fun.” She looked back to the Doctor. “You know, Doctor, since you left, I got to have some childhood. I have you to thank for that.”

The Doctor twisted her hands together.

“Wasn’t just me,” she said. “It was time.”

“Still,” Merry said. “You and Clara.”

“Me and Clara,” the Doctor repeated.

“You must miss her,” Merry added.

“Every day,” the Doctor said. “But that’s enough sadness, isn’t it? Enjoy your party, Merry. And happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday,” Yaz added.

Merry thanked them both, and they drifted away.

“Want to get food?” the Doctor asked.

“Sure,” Yaz said. She trailed the Doctor to the food. Finally, as she was getting a plate, she blurted, “Who’s Clara?”

The Doctor had been in the middle of taking a pastry, but now her hand froze.

"Sorry I've never mentioned her," she said. “I try not to talk about the past.”

“It’s okay,” Yaz said. “Whoever she was, she clearly meant a lot to you.”

“She did,” the Doctor said. “I managed to save her, sort of. She’s still out there, as far as I know.”

“But not with you?”

“Not with me,” the Doctor agreed. She dropped the pastry on her plate.

Yaz took something she thought might be a sort of meat.

“Don’t like to talk about it,” the Doctor said. “I’ve lost loads of people. Trying to move on.”

“But Doctor,” Yaz said. “Moving on doesn’t mean you have to forget. Doesn’t mean you have to not talk about them.” She paused. “If she mattered to you, she must have been brilliant.”

“She was,” the Doctor agreed. Her plate was full, and she stepped back. A moment later, Yaz joined her. “I don’t want to talk about this now,” the Doctor said. “This is supposed to be a party. It’s fun.”

“Later, though?” Yaz asked.

“Later,” the Doctor agreed, and she and Yaz walked together to join Ryan and Graham, who had a whole eight-person table to themselves. Graham had taken out one of his own cheese-and-pickle sandwiches; Ryan was mocking him in between bites of food from the party. Yaz sat down and slid effortlessly into the mockery.

“Still can’t believe you think that’s good,” she said, popping a pastry into her mouth. There was meat inside— the texture was like ground beef, but the flavors were nothing Yaz had tasted before.

“You can talk,” Graham retorted. “I didn’t eat that thing made from alien pig eyes.”  
The conversation devolved from there, and Yaz settled into her chair. She loved this sort of adventure, where she got to joke with her friends and eat strange new foods and drag serious conversations out of the Doctor. Then again, she loved every sort of adventure, so maybe that wasn’t saying much.

After a while, the music faded, the dance floor emptied, and Merry Galel herself joined the quartet onstage.

“Thanks for coming, everybody,” she said. “As the Queen of Years, I have promised to sing one song tonight.” She paused. “This is one of the first ones I learned. It’s the story of what was here before us. You are welcome to dance.”

The quartet began a slow, sweet melody. Yaz closed her eyes, listening— it was a beautiful melody, stringing itself along, light and lovely. Merry’s voice joined the song, round and smooth, and Yaz’s eyes slid open again as she swayed in her seat.

The Doctor was looking at her.

The Doctor was looking at her with soft eyes, and Yaz suddenly remembered that she had said they were girlfriends, a week ago.

“Dance with me?” she asked, already standing up.

“Of course,” the Doctor said.

The dance floor had filled again with couples, all moving through the steps of a dance Yaz didn’t know. For a split second, she was worried she had made a mistake, but then the Doctor walking behind her said, “Wish I knew how to do that,” and Yaz laughed in relief.

“Me, too,” she said. She was at the dance floor, so she turned and opened her arms. The Doctor took the invitation, resting one hand on Yaz’s shoulder and the other on her waist with a delicate, feathery touch, and Yaz did the same. They held each other’s eyes, and Yaz felt that strong connection between them, the one that only came when something sad had happened or when something wonderfully, wonderfully happy was about to happen.

The Doctor was beautiful, she thought. Or handsome, or whatever a genderfluid alien in a suit was. She had taken her hat off at the table, and she had done her hair in a French braid that twisted into a bun in back, which was now on Yaz’s list of top ten best hairstyles. Her ear cuff glittered, even in the low light, and now Yaz was close, she could see that the Doctor was definitely wearing glitter mascara, which was reflected in the shine of her eyes. Yaz was breathless, really, just at the way the Doctor carried herself, the way she looked at Yaz, the way two points of contact felt like a full-body hug.

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor said, her voice soft. “You’re gorgeous.” And Yaz realized that while she had been staring, the Doctor had been staring back. A warm feeling spread through her chest, and a smile spread across her face.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

The Doctor nodded.

“So are you.”

“Brilliant,” the Doctor breathed.

Yaz hesitated. Maybe now wasn’t the time, revolving on a dance floor, staring into each other’s eyes while everyone around them executed an alien ballroom dance, but— “We should talk about what being girlfriends means,” she said.

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked.

“Since you’re not human,” Yaz said. “And since we haven’t really mentioned it yet, and communication is essential to a healthy relationship.”

“Well,” the Doctor said, “I’m pretty sure it means we care about each other, and spend time together, and maybe kiss sometimes, and dance at parties together, and things like that.”

“Okay,” Yaz said. She took a deep breath. “Okay, good.”

“I have been married, you know,” the Doctor said.

Yaz almost tripped over her skirt.

“You’ve what?”

“Lots of times,” the Doctor said. “Not often successfully. But I do know how relationships work.”

“Sorry,” Yaz said. “Forgot how old you are for a second.”

“I forget, myself, sometimes,” the Doctor replied.

“It’s weird,” Yaz said. “You’re too old for me by far.”

“Your mum would not approve,” the Doctor agreed.

“But you’re not human,” Yaz said. “What does age even mean to you?”

The Doctor broke eye contact to look down at the floor between them.

“Means all my friends die first,” she said. She looked back at Yaz. “Like with Clara. We were so close, and then one day--" She broke off. "Anyway. Mostly means sadness, and more responsibility than you can imagine.”

“And our relationship won’t be like a normal human relationship,” Yaz said. “It means I might outgrow you, right? Since I get older so much faster.”

“It’s happened before,” the Doctor said.

Yaz paused.

“I think I’m okay with that,” she said. “If you’re okay with it. We’ll make the most of the time we have.”

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor said again. “Do you know you’re brilliant?”

“Think I might have heard it,” Yaz said, and she pulled the Doctor closer so she could rest her head on her shoulder. The song drew to a close not long after that, leaving Yaz with her eyes closed and her cheek pressed against the velvet of the Doctor’s suit. As everyone began to clap, Yaz pulled herself back. The Doctor was looking at her again with a look Yaz was beginning to recognize as hers, with soft eyes and a relaxed smile.

“I’m glad we did this,” the Doctor said. One of her hands was on Yaz’s back now, rubbing gentle circles.

“Me, too,” Yaz said, and she rested her head back on the Doctor’s shoulder as the quartet started up again.

They danced until Graham came up to them and complained that he was tired and wanted to go back to the TARDIS. The Doctor said her goodbyes to Merry, and then Yaz brought her through the corridors and into her bedroom. It felt a little strange to have the Doctor, who Yaz still saw as a little separate, a little larger-than-life, in her homey little room on the TARDIS, but when she was half-asleep in her favorite pajamas watching a movie curled up against the Doctor’s chest with the Doctor’s hands in her hair, it didn’t seem so strange anymore.


End file.
